Sometimes Men Are Just Like Us
by Clovis15
Summary: A psychologist aboard the SDF-1 writes Henry Gloval a letter about what he fears to be a grave problem.


-TO HENRY J. GLOVAL  
  
-ON THE ISSUE OF MORAL CONFLICTS AND THEIR POSSIBLE NEED FOR MONITORING IN PILOTS OF THE SDF-1 ARMIES.  
  
I am a psychologist. Back on Earth I served to comfort the minds of bewildered and confused soldiers during the third world war. That's right, I'm a military psychologist. It's a worthwhile profession; lord knows that the unfortunate souls scarred by war need professional help. I administer to their needs, and more than often succeed in bringing some order and reason back into their existence.  
  
Then 'it' came and put an end to the war. Our 'visitor' as some began to call it. A mile long monstrosity that you could say just fell from the sky. To some degree its appearance was that of a miracle. It did what months of battles, negotiations and the like could not bring about: a unifying world peace, the first of its kind in the history of all man.  
  
After its appearance all military operations began to focus upon our mile- long visitor from the stars. I still being affiliated with military mental medicine, bought a house in the slowly developing Macross city. The town started out small, but in ten years it would grow to be a veritable metropolis. This rapid growth would become an unfortunate turn of events when the second wave of visitors showed up, for the entire town would be between them and their objective.  
  
An army of extra terrestrials appeared that called themselves Zentreadi. During the battle that followed a freakish accident that I myself cannot explain, nor ever hope to, occurred. The entire city of Macross was teleported to the outer rim of the solar system. Fortunately for myself and everyone else in the city no one died in the vacuum of space. Lucky it was for all of us that one element of the city's design was airtight bomb shelters. All of the city and its survivors were moved into the spaceship now known as the SDF-1.  
  
Inside the rebuilt alien spacecraft was a large quantity of unused space, but then again it was a mile long after all. Inside a large unused portion they did something that many would have thought to be impossible, they rebuilt a large portion of Macross city. It was in this city that I continued my profession; though now with a more civilian help oriented focus. But it shouldn't come as a surprise that the majority of those who now saw me were civilians. In a place where there are thousands of civilians transported to edge of solar system against their will, it only makes sense for a large majority of them to begin suffering mental breakdowns.  
  
And this at last brings me to the heart of why I am writing this. There is still a war going on, the aliens that are partially responsible for the citizens of Macross being in space still seem to want this spaceship badly. I still see pilots during my work hours, many of them coming to me with problems the likes of which I have never dealt with before. But then in the past I was always treating the scarred ones of a war of man versus man. Yet I must now ask myself is this a war of man versus man as well. What follows is a transcript of a recorded conversation with a pilot I had in my office earlier this week.  
  
PATIENT: No one will ever again catch me in a bar boasting about how I incinerated a number of the aliens on the battlefield. In fact I may never be on the battlefield again. Having seen what I've seen, how can I in a right frame of mind?  
  
MYSELF: What is it that you have seen, why is it that it troubles you?  
  
PATIENT: You tell yourself that it's okay to kill them, that they're not human. That they are hell spawn that does not deserve a continued existence in the grander scheme of things. You tell yourself these things and more to allow yourself to kill as easily as you breath.  
  
MYSELF: "The aliens don't mater," that seems to be a consistent mantra among pilots such as yourself. But what is it that you've seen?  
  
PATIENT: In the heat of battle we do some rather weird things. Y'know that attack we had last week?  
  
MYSELF: Yes, but the intercom said there was nothing to worry about, losses were minimal.  
  
PATIENT: Now there's a military crock. We lost many good men that day. A few others and me got so fed up at watching our friends die left and right out there that we took it upon ourselves to take down their flagship or die trying.  
  
MYSELF: I'll assume you were successful in your self appointed mission?  
  
PATIENT: Yeah, we took the blasted thing out and put it away. But what I saw inside, that I might never be able to forget. What I saw inside just seems to pull the carpet out from under me and my ability to fight.  
  
MYSELF: What did you see?  
  
PATIENT: We thought that the best way to do some damage was to rip open a hole in its armor and fly on in causing as much internal damage as possible, then get out before it blew. From mission debriefings in the past we had a crude idea of a few key points that if taken out could bring the whole ship down.  
  
MYSELF: Please continue.  
  
PATIENT: The three of us landed upon the hall of the ship in g-mode. With some concentrated gatling fire we rended a hole in the outer hull that we all proceeded to climb down one by one in B-mode. Once inside we moved in a style not unlike a swat team through the alien ship to where we assumed a key point would be. Our path through the ship was less eventful then we would've expected, but our one encounter was more than enough.  
  
MYSELF: What did you encounter?  
  
PATIENT: Well, I was standing rear guard behind the other two as they knocked down an alien sized door. For a split second before they both ran in guns blazing, I was able to clearly see the occupants of the room. The aliens were men. They were human, 50 feet tall to be sure, but they still looked as if they were normal people. As I stared upon the horrified looks on their faces just before their bodies were cut to shreds by a continuous stream of ammo from my two comrades, I realized that we were fighting our own.  
  
MYSELF: You say the aliens were human, when was the last time you saw a fifty-foot tall human? I know I haven't seen any recently.  
  
PATIENT: This isn't funny. In the bible it says God created man in his image. That's all it says. There is no mention made of God making man to the same scale as him or anything. If we are in God's image, then of what I saw, so are the aliens. If this makes them fellow creations of God, then am I fighting a brethren race that is merely larger? How can I go out and kill without caring anymore when I know we're all the same?  
  
I know nothing of the military's secrets aboard this spaceship. But I do know this, if this pilot was telling the truth and merely not suffering from a false memory created by post battle trauma, then there are grave moral implications to follow. If it is true that the aliens look just like us, then eventually all pilots will become aware of this fact. While I myself disapprove of war, I understand that it is necessary for soldiers to go into battle with no moral conflicts over who the enemy really is.  
  
If such a moral crises were to arise amongst all the pilots at once, then I feel that we do not have enough facilities to cope with the sudden influx of people needing mental help that it will cause. As I have said before I am opposed to war, but I suggest you look into the training of new psychologists specially trained to handle the new moral and mental dilemmas this most unique war causes. Else we may be left without an army that is willing to fight.  
  
Torrpa D. Johanavich  
  
-Psychologist 


End file.
